“Everyone thinks they have the best dog. And none of them are wrong.” 

Today is sunny and bright. Rain is predicted for later, but the sky is blue with only a few white clouds. The breeze gives the air a chill. It is 57°.

Nala is bringing the outside inside. Yesterday it was some papers she had taken from the house. She loves to tear papers. This morning I heard noises at the dog door. Nala was trying to bring in a branch wider than the dog door. She dropped it when I asked, an unusual Nala behavior. I had to pick up some pine needles from the branch she brought inside yesterday. Nala makes messes.

Duke is the dog I grew up with, another boxer. He was intimidating to people who didn’t know him. His chest was wide and muscular. His bark was deep. He’d stand his ground. He protected us. He also followed us everywhere, even to school. My father was totally frustrated by Duke who ignored him. My mother offered bologna so he’d get close enough for her to grab him by his collar; instead, he’d snatch all but a small piece of bologna from my mother’s hand and then he’d run.

My book came yesterday, and I started reading it right away. I carried it upstairs and read it while I sat with Jack then took the book to bed. It rested on Nala who was lying beside me.

When I woke up the morning, Nala’s head was resting on my arm. She sensed the change in my breathing and jumped on me. Henry followed suit. They always seem surprised and excited when I make it through the night.

The dogs have a wonderful routine. They exemplify a dog’s life. In the morning, when they sense me awake, they jump on me to get me moving. We go downstairs and both of them stand at the door waiting for me to open it. They run to the backyard. Henry comes in first and stands at the treat door. We wait for Nala then they both get a biscuit. They go back to the yard. When they come inside, their morning nap is next. Around 3 or 3:30, Henry scratches the rug and looks at me. He does it again and again until I get up to feed them. After dinner they go out again then come in for thei

r late afternoon nap. They go out another couple of times before their evening nap which lasts until my bedtime. They go out for the last time then run upstairs to claim room on my bed before I get there. They sleep through the night. I should live a dog’s life, at least one in this house.

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6 Comments on ““Everyone thinks they have the best dog. And none of them are wrong.” ”

  1. Birgit Says:

    As a dog I think I would like to live in your house too 🙂
    Happy reading! I used to read lots of books but now I prefer audio plays, radio features and more. It’s so much easier to get interesting audio stuff via internet now, an advantage of our public broadcasting system. Occasionally I read a book in summer in the garden now.
    Similar weather here today.

    • katry Says:

      Hi Birgit,
      My father always said he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

      I have done little except read all day though I did take a break to wash the bathroom floor and clean the rest of the bathroom. I have already read close to 300 pages. I am hooked.

  2. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    My mother used to say that she would love to return as a dog in a Jewish household. I second Brigit’s idea. 🙂

    When I lived with my aunt and uncle in Queens NY, they had a mixed breed dog named Sandy. He appeared one winter morning on the front step and my aunt gave him some milk so he never left. She would feed the dog scrambled eggs every morning serving him the eggs in his dish. She also feed him snacks, pieces of food, during the day while she cooked. She would hold out the food and give it a little toss as he grabbed for the food. She would then run to the sink to scrub her hands. She always said the same thing as she gave him the food, “Farshtinkana Hunt”. Yiddish transliterated for smelly dog.

    Today was mostly cloudy and warm with a high of 72°.

    • katry Says:

      Hi Bob,
      You would be quite spoiled if you were a dog here. My two live an ideal life!!

      If I had been Sandy, I’d have stayed too. The food sounds great. That Sandy had some talent in catching the food. I don’t get why she had to wash her hands as she threw the food rather than feed it to the dog.

      I love the word Farshtinkana. It sounds just like its meaning.

      • Bob Says:

        Yiddish is a very descriptive language. My aunt thought that touching or even getting close to the dog made her wash her hands. She thought dogs were dirty.

      • katry Says:

        Some countries in the Mid-East think the same way.

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